Representation
by Nonadhesiveness
Summary: With tensions rising between Elizabeth and Henry, and rumours of Elizabeth hiring a divorce lawyer, the children make the only reasonable assumption.


Inspired by the relationship tensions in Season 2, but not tied to the actual plot.

(I wrote this an age ago, but I never got round to editing it or posting it. I've tidied it up a bit, though it's far from perfect. Hope you enjoy!)

 **Representation**

Elizabeth stepped into the kitchen. "Has anyone seen my pearl necklace?" she asked, and her fingers rose to her throat. She glanced at the clock. She should have left five minutes ago.

Elizabeth looked to Alison and then to Stevie. Both shook their heads. Sat at the table with his headphones on, Jason continued to stare at his bowl as he shovelled cereal into his mouth.

"Henry?" Elizabeth asked. She frowned at her husband.

Henry glanced up from his bowl with a shrug.

"When did you last have it?" Stevie asked.

"I don't know!" Elizabeth ran one hand through her hair.

"I'm sure you'll find it," Henry said. He ambled into the kitchen, rinsing the bowl and placing it in the dishwasher.

Elizabeth frowned at the leisureliness of his pace. "I need to find it now."

"This second?" Henry said. He gave a half smirk, a subtle twist of the lips that suggested that Elizabeth was being ridiculous. "I'm sure you can cope without it."

"I don't want to cope without it," Elizabeth snapped. "I want to find it."

The kitchen fell silent. Elizabeth stared hard at Henry. Henry stared back, steely-eyed. The necklace was important to her, he knew that. Why did he have to be so deliberately obtuse?

Stevie cleared her throat. "My lectures don't start until this afternoon. I can have a look for it, if you want," she said.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. She reached out to stroke Stevie's hair before pressing a kiss to her forehead. She hugged and kissed Alison, and then disturbed Jason with a kiss to the temple.

Elizabeth's phone was vibrating and ringing. She was now nine minutes late. She took the call, trying to wedge the phone between her ear and shoulder as she shrugged on her coat. Alison's hands tugged at her collar, straightening it out.

"Thank you," Elizabeth mouthed. She gave a broad wave to her family, catching Henry's eye for just a moment—just long enough to see his pursed lips and a flash of disapproval—and then she hurried out the door. She didn't have time to deal with his pouting now.

* * *

There was a knock at the door.

Elizabeth continued to sign the documents in front of her as she called out, "Come in."

The door opened and closed. She glanced up—Nadine. Nadine waited in silence until Elizabeth had passed the documents on to the clerk and the clerk had exited the room.

"Nadine," Elizabeth said. She stood up, stretching, and walked round to the front of the desk. Her legs ached from sitting down for so long. "What can I help you with?"

"I've arranged an appointment with a solicitor for this afternoon," Nadine said. She stepped forward, handing Elizabeth a business card. "Apparently he doesn't do house calls, but he's willing to make an exception this time."

Elizabeth's lips quirked into a smile— _of course he was_. The card was simple, understated. She removed her glasses as she looked back up at Nadine. "And he's discreet?"

"Yes," Nadine said, with an affirmative nod, "And highly recommended. Especially when it comes to financial matters."

"Good," Elizabeth said. "Was there anything else?"

"No, ma'am," Nadine said, though she hesitated rather than moving towards the door. "But…I just wanted to express my condolences. Were you and your aunt close?" Her face tensed, as if worried that she were stepping over the line of professionalism.

"Not close exactly," Elizabeth said. She offered a weak smile. "She was my mother's sister—the only family my brother and I had left after our parents died. She never wanted kids, but she was good to us in her own way. She did what she could."

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss," Nadine said. "If there's anything else that I can do, let me know." She gave a curt bow, excusing herself.

"Thank you, Nadine," Elizabeth called after her. She was grateful for Nadine's help. Nadine was the only one who knew about her aunt's death; she hadn't even told Henry.

Elizabeth glanced at her watch and then grabbed the phone out of its cradle. She dialled Henry's number. The phone rang and rang and rang. Elizabeth bit her lip. It cut to answer phone, and she hung up. He might have been busy, or he might have been screening her calls after their exchange that morning. Such hostility had become almost commonplace recently. Sometimes it felt as though Henry resented her.

* * *

"So," Elizabeth said, snatching off her glasses, "Why divorces?" She leant forward in her seat, studying the change in the solicitor's expression.

Max gave an uneasy laugh and he sat back, recoiling slightly. It was the laugh of a sellout who had always sworn he wouldn't sell out. "It's where the money is," he said. He gave a shrug, feigned nonchalance, but he remained tense. "I have a lifestyle to pay for, school fees…My daughter actually attends the same school as your daughter—Alison, right?"

"Right," Elizabeth said.

"Divorce is messy—not pleasant to deal with, lots of bitter clients—but I like to think that I help in some small way, at least when it comes to the financial side."

"So setting up trust funds and dealing with inheritance tax is a welcome break?" Elizabeth smiled wryly.

"You could say that," Max said. He gave the laugh again.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," Elizabeth said. She leant over the back of the sofa to kiss Henry's cheek. He leant into the kiss but didn't put his book down. "I tried calling you earlier."

"Yeah," Henry said, "Sorry I missed it. I was busy, didn't hear it ringing." He turned the page. He still hadn't looked up at her.

"Is there any dinner left?" Elizabeth asked. She looked over to the kitchen. Dirty plates were stacked on the side, ready for the dishwasher, but no sign of food.

"I think Alison put the leftovers in the fridge," Henry said.

Elizabeth peered into the fridge. By leftovers Henry meant the selection of food that nobody else wanted. Another day, another game of fridge tapas.

"Good book?" Elizabeth asked. It must have been good for Henry to find it so enthralling, or maybe he was just avoiding conversation. Distance mounted between them, threatening to collapse into argument at any moment. Her stomach turned, her hunger dissipating. Her fingers twitched to reach out to him, but she held back. Why try if he would only turn away?

"Hmmm?" Henry said.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Nevermind," she said, and retreated upstairs.

The pearl necklace that her aunt had given her lay on the dressing table. Elizabeth ran her fingers over it, finding comfort in the smoothness of the pearls. Though she and her aunt hadn't been close, family was family. Each loss renewed the grief for her parents.

Elizabeth lay on the bed, staring into the darkness. When Henry finally came upstairs, she pretended to be asleep. Sometimes the pain of the silence was easier than saying the things that they needed to say.

* * *

Someone was knocking on the bedroom door, but Stevie ignored it. If she stayed silent maybe whoever it was would realise that she was busy and would go away. But after a minute there came a second knock. Stevie shot a quick glare towards the door before turning back to her laptop and pile of textbooks.

"Busy," Stevie called out. She drummed her fingers against the keyboard, trying to concentrate. There was too much information to merge into a single essay.

The door opened anyway and Alison stepped inside. She waited with her back to the door. Stevie frowned at her laptop, refusing to acknowledge her sister's interruption.

"Stevie, I need to talk to you," Alison said. She was wearing that worried frown of hers, but it featured so often recently that Stevie found it hard to tell whether it was justified or not.

"And I need to finish this essay," Stevie replied. She swivelled around in her chair, sending Alison a hard look. "What is it Ali?"

"I'm worried about Mom and Dad," Alison said. She sat down on the edge of Stevie's bed, her hands clasped in her lap. "There's this girl at school who's always on about her dad being some big-shot divorce lawyer and today she made some comment about her dad representing Mom. When I said that that was total rubbish, she said that I was just in denial and that I couldn't face up to the fact that my life isn't so perfect after all and that Mom and Dad are getting divorced."

"She's obviously lying, Ali," Stevie said. She gave a shrug. "She's probably just trying to get at you, and you're letting her win."

"But what if she's not lying!" Alison said, jumping up. "We've both seen it, the way they keep arguing."

Stevie reached out for Alison's hand. "Hey, it's okay," she said. "Mom and Dad aren't getting a divorce."

"Then why does Mom need a _divorce lawyer_?" Alison snatched her hand away.

"Mom has a what?" Jason's voice came from the doorway.

Stevie spun round to face the door, finding their younger brother stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob. She glared at Alison before looking back at Jason with a stern expression. "It's nothing, Jason," she said.

"Doesn't sound like nothing," Jason said. "You said that Mom has a divorce lawyer. Are Mom and Dad getting a divorce?"

"No!" Stevie said.

But, at the same time, Alison said, "Yes!"

"Is that why they've been acting so weird recently?" Jason said. "Surely they're meant to tell us if they're getting a divorce? We have a right to know."

"They're not getting a divorce!" Stevie sighed.

"They barely spend any time together," Alison said, holding up one finger. "When they are together they fight." She lifted a second finger. "And now Mom is being represented by a divorce lawyer." She added a third finger, raising her eyebrows at Stevie. "It makes sense."

"We should confront them," Jason said. "They can't do this behind our backs. I know a guy whose parents got divorced without telling him. First he knew about it was when his father moved to a different house. Now he's living out of a rucksack going back and forth between them."

"We are not confronting them," Stevie said. "We're not saying anything because we don't know anything."

"But we do know," Jason said. "We know enough to make a reasonable assumption."

"And that's all it is," Stevie said, "An assumption! No. We're not saying anything until Mom and Dad decide to talk to us about it."

"So now you admit that there is something for them to talk to us about," Jason said. He wore a smug look, as if satisfied that he had caught his sister out.

"No!" Stevie said. She clutched at her hair with one hand. "Look, guys, I have a ton of work to do and I don't have time to deal with your conspiracy theories. No one is saying anything about any of this to anyone. Got it?"

Jason shrugged. "Got it." He walked out of the room, calling back over his shoulder as he went, "Dinner's ready."

* * *

Elizabeth kicked off her shoes, and as her family's voices drifted through from the dining room, she smiled. It was the first time she had made it home for dinner in a while—thank God for a little normalcy!

"Hey, guys!" Elizabeth kissed each of her children in turn before going to press a kiss to Henry's cheek.

"Hey, stranger," Henry said. He reached up, his fingers briefly tangling through the ends of Elizabeth's hair before falling back to the table.

Elizabeth slumped down into her chair. Her plate had been covered, presumably in the anticipation that once again she wouldn't make it back in time for dinner. "So how was everyone's day?" she asked, but no sooner had she spoken than her phone began to ring.

"Don't answer it," Henry said.

Elizabeth glanced across at him, taken aback by the forcefulness of his tone, as she searched for her phone in her pocket. Nadine. She hesitated, receiving another warning look from Henry, and then answered the call anyway. "Hello?"

"Ma'am," Nadine said, "We have a situation. It's China."

Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes. It was always China, or Russia, or North Korea.

"I'm on my way," she said. Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she stood up. But she couldn't ignore the disapproving look that Henry was sending her. "They need me," she explained, throwing one hand into the air. It wasn't as though she had a choice in the matter.

"You haven't even eaten yet," Henry said, gesturing to the plate of food that had yet to be uncovered from its tinfoil wrapping. "If it's not the president calling you then someone else can handle it."

"Henry," Elizabeth said, her tone begging him not to start an argument, not then. "I need to go." She paused by his seat, one hand resting on the back of his chair, but he looked stubbornly down at his plate, refusing to meet her eye. Elizabeth frowned. "I need to go," she repeated, but Henry's gaze wouldn't budge. "I'll see you later."

Elizabeth bent to kiss Henry's temple, but stopped short as he replied, "I won't wait up."

Their three children had all turned their attention away, as if averting their gazes would offer her and Henry some privacy.

"Bye, guys," Elizabeth said. She blew them kisses. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

"I don't buy it, you guys," Stevie said. She sat back in her chair, swinging one leg over the other. Her essay remained unfinished. "Mom's not acting any differently."

"Yeah, because she's trying to trick us into thinking everything's fine," Jason said from the floor. "If she acts all nice when we're around then they can get the divorce behind our backs and only tell us once it's finalised."

"And Dad's acting so cold," Alison piped up from her perch on her sister's bed. "He's never like that with Mom. Something's going on."

"Like work stuff," Stevie insisted. There were many possibilities.

"Or divorce," Jason countered. "Look, we have a right to know what's going on. We're part of this family so we should get a say in what happens."

* * *

"Jason!" Stevie shouted up the stairs. She and Alison had been busy preparing the dinner with their father, but Jason had disappeared straight up to his room as soon as he got back from school.

Heavy, begrudging footsteps heralded Jason's arrival. "What?"

"Please can you set the table," Stevie said. It wasn't too much to ask.

"Fine." Jason grabbed the cutlery. "What is that anyway?" He peered over the edge of the pan, his nose wrinkled.

"Chicken tagine," Alison replied. She set the plates on the side, ready to serve.

"Nice," Jason muttered and walked away.

"Hey," their father called after him, "A little more gratitude, please."

Jason took little care as he placed the cutlery on the table haphazardly. He stopped as he came to his mother's place. "Is there any point in setting a place for Mom?"

Stevie and Alison joined their brother in sending their father an expectant look.

"She'll be back late," their father answered.

"So that's a 'no' then?" Jason pressed. His tone was bordering on insolent and he received a warning look for his trouble.

Alison broke the tension with a cheery, "It's ready!" She smiled a forced smile that did little to disguise her discomfort.

Stevie squeezed her sister's shoulder. "You take the plates, Ali," she said, "I'll bring the chicken." She looked to Jason as he returned the extra set of cutlery to the drawer with a clatter. "Jase, can you bring the couscous?"

"Sure." Jason shrugged.

The four of them sat around the table, no one saying much. Any attempts at small talk rapidly fell flat. Their father did not seem to be in a talkative mood, and Jason was silently fuming.

"So, I'm working on a new blog post," Alison announced.

Though it filled the silence, the mutual discomfort remained.

Jason stopped poking at his dinner and looked up at their father with a hard stare. "Are you and Mom getting a divorce?"

Their father coughed and grabbed for his water. The silence stretched as he swallowed and set the glass back down. "What?" he demanded. He wore a deep frown, but it looked no more than a wrinkle compared to Jason's.

"Jason!" Stevie hissed, trying to hush her brother.

"Are you getting a divorce?" Jason repeated, each word laced with venom. "You can't hide it from us. We have a right to know!"

"I don't know what's got into you today," their father said, his jaw tensing, "But I strongly advise that you quit it."

"You're such a hypocrite!" Jason said. He threw his cutlery down and pushed himself back from the table. His hands waved wildly as he argued. "You and Mom are always on about honesty and transparency but then you go behind our backs to get a divorce."

"Jason, stop it!" Stevie said. She scowled at her brother.

"Someone had better explain what's going on and fast." Henry looked to Stevie and Alison. He had given up on getting anything reasonable out of Jason.

Stevie pursed her lips. It was a discussion that she never wanted to be involved in, one that she had done her best to avoid. One glance at Alison told her that her sister had shut down into an overwhelmed silence.

"We know that Mom is being represented by some hotshot divorce lawyer," Jason said.

Stevie watched their father. His face fell. Jason was too wrapped up in his tirade to notice though and he continued unabated.

"Apparently everyone at Alison's school knows, but no one thought to tell us," Jason said. "Doesn't matter though, does it? Not like it's ruining our lives. Just another news-cycle, right?"

Stevie's eyes were still on her father. "You didn't know, did you? About the divorce lawyer?" He hadn't looked angry at his secret being discovered, he had looked shocked.

Their father remained silent, lost.

"Wait," Jason said and shook his head. "Mom filed for divorce without telling you?"

"Why don't you ask Alison's friends? After all, they seem to know everything about our family. They certainly know more than I do."

* * *

Elizabeth paused before opening the front door. Her only goal for the day had been to make it through unscathed. Her fingertips found the string of pearls that nestled beneath the fold of her black turtleneck. The funeral was draining, but she hadn't allowed herself to cry; her aunt wouldn't have wanted her to cry. _A woman's tears show only her weakness_ , she had told Elizabeth once.

"I'm home," Elizabeth called out in a soft voice. When there was no reply, she ventured through to the dining room. All hopes of a quiet evening were shattered when she saw the hurt and angry looks on her family's faces. "What's happened?"

Everyone was avoiding her gaze. She looked to Henry, pleading for some kind of clue.

"Go to your rooms," Henry said to their children.

That made Elizabeth's stomach tighten. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?"

Jason brushed past her, and as he did he spat out, "Bitch!"

"Jason!" Henry shouted. "Don't speak to your mother like that!"

"Why are you siding with her?" Jason threw his arms in the air. "She's the one that's leaving you."

Elizabeth's head spun. What were they talking about and had Jason really just called her a bitch? Whatever was going on, she couldn't put up with it, not after the day she had just had. A family feud was the last thing that she needed.

Elizabeth frowned. "I don't know what any of _this_ is," she said, gesturing to the four of them and the hostility in the atmosphere, "But I don't want to deal with it. Not tonight."

She turned and started her retreat upstairs. She was only two steps up the staircase when she heard Alison's snide comment.

"I can't believe you wore that. It looks like you've been to a funeral."

Elizabeth paused, but she didn't look back. She murmured, "I have just been to a funeral. My aunt died." Then she continued her slow ascent.

Closing the bedroom door behind her, Elizabeth let out a long sigh. Was it too much to ask to have a peaceful evening with no interruptions from work and no attacks from her family?

* * *

Three faces gawked up at Henry. He didn't have the heart to tell them that this was their own doing. Not only was their mother grieving, but now her hurt was compounded by the assumptions that they had made. He shook his head, and pursued Elizabeth upstairs.

Elizabeth had thrown the funeral clothes on their bed and was in the middle of pulling on a baggy t-shirt and some loose sweatpants. She looked ruffled and tired and—more than anything—sad. Before Henry could speak, she said, "I'm serious, Henry. I don't want to deal with any of this _drama_. Not today."

Henry kept his distance. "Why didn't you tell me about your aunt?"

"Because I didn't want to talk about it," Elizabeth said. She tugged at her rings, loosening them from her fingers and dropping them onto the dresser. Her hands came to rest on her hips as she turned to face Henry. "You haven't exactly been that talkative recently, and I just wanted to get through the funeral without having a total meltdown."

"I would have come with you," Henry said. His open stance balanced the defensiveness of her own.

Elizabeth shook her head with a bitter laugh. "My aunt never liked you, and I know that you didn't like her so don't even try to convince me otherwise."

The mutual animosity was undeniable; even someone half as astute as Elizabeth would recognise it without hesitation. Elizabeth's aunt thought that Elizabeth had married beneath her, thought that she could do far better, and she had never been anything but forthcoming when it came to her opinions.

"I wouldn't have gone for her sake," Henry said, "I would have gone to support you."

None of that mattered though. The funeral was over now.

"The kids think we're getting divorced," Henry said. He could see that Elizabeth was tired and wanted nothing more than to rest, but the issue couldn't wait. "Apparently people at Alison's school have been saying that you've hired a divorce lawyer."

"Mmm," Elizabeth said and she nodded, as if something had suddenly clicked in her mind. "His daughter goes to Alison's school."

"So…you _have_ hired a divorce lawyer?" Henry said. He sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand rising to rub the line of his jaw.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, "He's highly recommended when it comes to making financial arrangements, such as dealing with inheritance." She sat down next to Henry, laying one hand on his knee. "I set up trust funds for our children. Or _your_ children now, seeing as they appear to have disowned me."

Henry covered her hand with his own, letting his eye linger on their entwined fingers for a moment before looking up at her. He offered her a small smile. "They're just upset."

"Jason called me a bitch," Elizabeth pointed out.

"I'll have words with him," Henry said.

Elizabeth rested her head against his shoulder. "Did you believe them? Did you think that I would file for divorce?"

"No!" Henry said, but he must have spoken too quickly and too forcefully for Elizabeth lifted her head from his shoulder and gave him a knowing look.

"Are you disappointed?" Elizabeth asked.

"That you're _not_ filing for divorce?" Henry clarified and then shook his head. "No. No! What on Earth makes you think that I would want a divorce?"

"You don't seem to like me much at the moment," Elizabeth said. She gave a sad shrug.

Henry was about to protest, but Elizabeth stopped him.

"We don't talk anymore and when we do we argue," she said. She looked at him with wide eyes and a heavy frown. The last time he had seen her so vulnerable was after the first panic attack, propped up in a hospital bed, trying to convince him that she was as tough as a marine. "Sometimes it feels like you've had enough of me…that you'd be glad to see me gone."

"I could live my life with you a million times over and still wish for one more day." Henry cupped her cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

Elizabeth pulled back, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I promised I wouldn't cry," she muttered.

"It's okay to cry," Henry told her.

Elizabeth shook her head. She breathed in deeply, her chest swelling, and then exhaled through her mouth. "If I start now, I don't think I'll stop."

"That's okay too."

"No," Elizabeth said. Her phone buzzed against the top of the dresser. "No, it's not." She turned away from Henry, leaving his side to look at her phone. "I need to take this." She didn't look for his permission, but she hesitated before answering.

Henry nodded in an acceptance of defeat. He couldn't expect weeks' worth of tension to dissolve in one conversation. "I'm going to talk to the kids."

When Henry returned, he found Elizabeth curled up atop the bed, still wearing her tee and sweats. The clothes hung loosely over her body, the material rising and falling with each shallow breath. Henry took the blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over her. He pressed a kiss to her furrowed forehead and left her to sleep in peace.

* * *

Elizabeth turned the alarm off before it could sound. She slipped out from beneath the covers only to find that she was not enveloped by the duvet as she had assumed but by a blanket instead. Henry gave a soft snore in his sleep, as if to confess that the blanket was his doing.

Elizabeth readied herself in silence. She looked to Henry frequently, but he did not stir. The stillness from the children's bedrooms as she passed told her that they too were still asleep.

* * *

At the office, Blake looked up from his desk with a dead stare (the kind usually reserved for interns), looked back to his computer screen and finally back to Elizabeth with wide-eyed recognition. "Madam Secretary," he said, "You're early. I mean, good morning."

"Morning, Blake," Elizabeth said. She smiled at him and motioned for him to sit back down as he jumped to his feet, ready to take her coat from her.

Elizabeth headed straight for her office, her coat still slung over her forearm.

"Can I get you anything?" Blake called after her, hovering between sitting and standing.

Elizabeth paused, her hand resting on the doorknob. "A coffee would be nice," she said, "And breakfast. I'm starving." Her stomach growled as if to emphasise the point.

"Any preference?" Blake asked.

"Surprise me," Elizabeth said. But at the sight of Blake's ever-present Fitbit, she added, "But nothing too healthy. I need carbs."

* * *

The clock on Elizabeth's computer ticked over from 16:59 to 17:00. One second later there was a terse knock on the door and Blake entered before being summoned.

"Home time," Blake said. He walked to the cupboard, collected Elizabeth's coat and held it out for her. When she didn't stand up immediately, he gave her coat a little shimmer.

"You seem awfully keen to get rid of me," Elizabeth said. "Should I be offended?" She shrugged her coat on and flipped up the collar. Her desk was cluttered and somewhere amongst the mess were her phone and keys, not to mention several important documents that she really ought not to lose. She frowned, lifting up various pieces of paper and letting them float back to the desk.

Blake stepped forward. In one neat motion he collected together all of the documents, swept her phone and keys up from the desk and placed them in her hand. "As far as I am aware there is no international crisis to detain you here this evening. I mean this in the kindest possible way: You're not needed. Go home!"

Blake thrust her bag into her hand and escorted her to the door. Elizabeth didn't protest. Even workaholics needed a break occasionally.

* * *

"Ma'am?" A member of Elizabeth's security detail prompted her.

Elizabeth blinked. How long had she been stood in front of the entrance to her home, hesitating before going inside?

"Hmmm?" She looked in the direction of the querying voice.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?"

"Yes…fine…thank you," Elizabeth said. She pulled her mouth into a tight smile and stepped forward to open the door.

At the same time Henry opened the internal door. He had been wearing a concerned expression, but his features brightened when he saw her. "Hey, babe," he said, "I was wondering where you got to." His hands found Elizabeth's waist, his lips pressing against her forehead.

"Hey, you," Elizabeth said. Beyond him, their three children stood in a neat line. It was all very _von Trapp_. "Is this why Blake turfed me out of the office?"

Henry shrugged. "Had to get you home somehow." He led Elizabeth inside, his hand moving to the small of her back. "We wanted to apologise for yesterday. Things got a bit out of hand. Right, kids?"

Jason had taken an interest in his feet and he sent them a downward scowl. "I'm sorry for calling you a bitch," he muttered. Without looking up at Elizabeth, he strode forward to envelop her in a tight hug.

Alison and Stevie followed suit. Elizabeth found herself surrounded by three pairs of arms. But she noticed the absence of Henry's touch. She looked back over her shoulder, seeking him out and finding his smug smile. "Get over here," she said.

Henry complied, wrapping his arms around the lot of them.

"I hate to break up the love-in," Stevie said, "But I need to get back to the dinner." She stepped back, followed by Alison. Jason remained.

Elizabeth brushed her hand over Jason's hair. He clung to her with the tenacity of a newborn. "You okay, sweetheart?" Elizabeth asked her youngest.

Jason nodded against her. "I don't want you and Dad to get divorced."

"Nor do I," Elizabeth said, and Henry squeezed her shoulders. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. It must have been horrible for you, for all of you."

When Jason let go, giving Elizabeth some space, she could see that his eyes were swollen but he had a look of determination, a stubborn refusal to let himself cry. "How come we never met your aunt?"

Elizabeth sighed, pressing one hand to her forehead. "She was a very particular woman," Elizabeth said. "She didn't like a lot of things—technology, children, your father." Henry's grip on her shoulders tightened in protest. "I tried to arrange visits so that you guys could meet her, but she always told me not to bother. She used to ask about the three of you in her letters though."

"How come she didn't like Dad?" Jason asked.

"She wasn't a fan of social mobility either," Henry replied before Elizabeth could saying anything. "Go see if your sisters need a hand. We'll be through in a minute."

Jason hesitated, looking to his mother as if asking for permission to leave.

"We'll be right through," Elizabeth said. She waved him towards the kitchen. "Off you go."

Elizabeth turned around in Henry's arms. She rested her hands against his chest, the beat of his heart steady beneath her palm. "Are we okay?" she asked. One meal, one gesture would not undo the tension that had mounted between them. When would they next argue again, what would be the cause this time?

"Things have been tough recently," Henry said. "Nothing that we can't fix."

"And that's something you're willing to do? Fix this?" Elizabeth asked. One hand rose higher, pulling at the lapel of his shirt.

"Yes. Always." Henry pecked at her lips in the briefest of touches. He pulled back far enough to look her in the eye, questioning if that was okay.

Elizabeth answered by pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Her fingers tangled and teased the hair at the nape of his neck. "You know that I love you?" she breathed against his lips. Her gaze darted up to catch his.

"I like you okay too," Henry said. His broad smile faded into sincerity. "I love you. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Don't apologise. I should have told you about my aunt."

Henry said, "I should have been a better husband."

"You're already the best husband I could ask for. You're a good man, Henry McCord. It's just this job…it comes between us…it makes it hard to talk. I feel that it's changed us…It's changed me."

"Change is a part of life," Henry told her.

"I just wish things didn't change so much or so quickly. I just wish that we had a chance to enjoy now before everything changes again."

"We can enjoy tonight," Henry said, and tugging at her hand, he coaxed her through to the dining room.


End file.
